powder blue wings. She zoomed to disappear up through the palmpear canopy.
âRudeness on full display,â resumed the droning voice from the bed of the vedling cart. âThe nectar of retirement almost attained dashed from my parched and bleeding lips. Survival is doubtful, yet duty reigns. The carts shall be turned back to the bleak and empty Castle of my worst nightmare. I have borne delays and delays. Why not another? Why not more thorns jabbed into my tender soul? Oh, when oh when shall I be allowed to take root in my modest thirty-seven retirement villas? Can I bear it? I canât bear it. I will bear it. Quen? Kig? What poisoned nettles shall I be dragged through next?â
The Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen continued her dull endless monologue, and the vedling carts turned and rolled inbound over their own outbound tracks.
Chapter Thirty-One
Double Moons Night
What a double stroke of convenient fortune it was for both of the moons to be full that night. Buckletar torches blazed in every sconce around the courtyard of the Castle Boad. Red torch light danced in blue moons glow. The bustle of festive preparation whirled throughout the Castle. The scene repeated itself above in Cloud Castle City with streams of craggers and hollowites moving briskly through the gleaming obsidian streets.
In the High Throne Room, Lady May of Orrun perched on the obsidian Throne, muttering to herself, counting on her fingers things to be done before dawn. Rindle Mer grumped below on the frosted blue carpet, scowling at the azure gown she held as far away from her as was possible. When Lord Jay Dot of Orrun made the mistake of saying he liked how she looked in the gown, Rindle Mer almost leveled him with a glare. Old Dabber of the West paced, realizing his granddaughter would no longer live in her round blue room in the Sapphire Tower after tomorrow. Oh, she would visit, yes. Oh, truth, for years she had been more at OâTan Falls than in the blue room. But yet, such was so that he felt a pang of loss.
In the Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeenâs Chamber of the Castle Boad, Kinng Forr fanned the prostrate Zilp with a woven oat towel stitched with the Royal Crest, a purple boot hopping over a rainbow scarf.
âIs my humiliation final?â said the Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen in her bland dull way.
âNot yet, my dear,â soothed Kinng Forr.
In the Great Hall of the Castle Boad, Motty snored loudly, draped asleep across one of the thrones. Seated on benches and facing one the other across a heavy long wooden table were Nimble Missst and Zootch. Nimble Missst described their neatly planned future with snapjaw clarity. All Zootch could do on his part was to nod in agreement.
âSo what ye discovered was the taste of ladgecake and the melt of gadapple blossom petals. Ye realized that to be Kig was not overly bad, except for the ridiculous marriage to me,â explained Nimble Missst.
Zootch nodded in agreement.
âYe will be Kig, of course, and dwell here and rule and reign and eat and perform ridiculous rites and rituals and ceremonies. I will be Quen and visit twice a year. Two days only. They will be called The Most Royal and Regal Quen Problem Solving Days. Properly formal, donât ye think?â
Zootch nodded in agreement.
âI will solve any and all problems, mysteries, riddles brought forth by citizens of any stripe. There will be a great celebration. I leave it to ye to plan the menu. Ladgecake is fine. Gadapples, too. But ye dare not ignore hoddle and ool. I prefer dreckulan ool with a spill of hoddle, not hoddle with a spill of ool. Ye do plan for dreckulan ool and hoddle, do ye not?â
Zootch nodded in agreement.
âNot much, mind ye. I need but a taste, such as I am. Otherwise, I trust the rest to your almost snapjaw mind. Else? Let me see. The ridiculous ceremony tomorrow morning. We will bear it. Then the ridiculous Zilp carted off for all and good into retirement. Then Cloud Castle City sails off to
âRudeness on full display,â resumed the droning voice from the bed of the vedling cart. âThe nectar of retirement almost attained dashed from my parched and bleeding lips. Survival is doubtful, yet duty reigns. The carts shall be turned back to the bleak and empty Castle of my worst nightmare. I have borne delays and delays. Why not another? Why not more thorns jabbed into my tender soul? Oh, when oh when shall I be allowed to take root in my modest thirty-seven retirement villas? Can I bear it? I canât bear it. I will bear it. Quen? Kig? What poisoned nettles shall I be dragged through next?â
The Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen continued her dull endless monologue, and the vedling carts turned and rolled inbound over their own outbound tracks.
Chapter Thirty-One
Double Moons Night
What a double stroke of convenient fortune it was for both of the moons to be full that night. Buckletar torches blazed in every sconce around the courtyard of the Castle Boad. Red torch light danced in blue moons glow. The bustle of festive preparation whirled throughout the Castle. The scene repeated itself above in Cloud Castle City with streams of craggers and hollowites moving briskly through the gleaming obsidian streets.
In the High Throne Room, Lady May of Orrun perched on the obsidian Throne, muttering to herself, counting on her fingers things to be done before dawn. Rindle Mer grumped below on the frosted blue carpet, scowling at the azure gown she held as far away from her as was possible. When Lord Jay Dot of Orrun made the mistake of saying he liked how she looked in the gown, Rindle Mer almost leveled him with a glare. Old Dabber of the West paced, realizing his granddaughter would no longer live in her round blue room in the Sapphire Tower after tomorrow. Oh, she would visit, yes. Oh, truth, for years she had been more at OâTan Falls than in the blue room. But yet, such was so that he felt a pang of loss.
In the Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeenâs Chamber of the Castle Boad, Kinng Forr fanned the prostrate Zilp with a woven oat towel stitched with the Royal Crest, a purple boot hopping over a rainbow scarf.
âIs my humiliation final?â said the Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen in her bland dull way.
âNot yet, my dear,â soothed Kinng Forr.
In the Great Hall of the Castle Boad, Motty snored loudly, draped asleep across one of the thrones. Seated on benches and facing one the other across a heavy long wooden table were Nimble Missst and Zootch. Nimble Missst described their neatly planned future with snapjaw clarity. All Zootch could do on his part was to nod in agreement.
âSo what ye discovered was the taste of ladgecake and the melt of gadapple blossom petals. Ye realized that to be Kig was not overly bad, except for the ridiculous marriage to me,â explained Nimble Missst.
Zootch nodded in agreement.
âYe will be Kig, of course, and dwell here and rule and reign and eat and perform ridiculous rites and rituals and ceremonies. I will be Quen and visit twice a year. Two days only. They will be called The Most Royal and Regal Quen Problem Solving Days. Properly formal, donât ye think?â
Zootch nodded in agreement.
âI will solve any and all problems, mysteries, riddles brought forth by citizens of any stripe. There will be a great celebration. I leave it to ye to plan the menu. Ladgecake is fine. Gadapples, too. But ye dare not ignore hoddle and ool. I prefer dreckulan ool with a spill of hoddle, not hoddle with a spill of ool. Ye do plan for dreckulan ool and hoddle, do ye not?â
Zootch nodded in agreement.
âNot much, mind ye. I need but a taste, such as I am. Otherwise, I trust the rest to your almost snapjaw mind. Else? Let me see. The ridiculous ceremony tomorrow morning. We will bear it. Then the ridiculous Zilp carted off for all and good into retirement. Then Cloud Castle City sails off to
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